


One Cocky Cocker Spaniel

by gala_apples



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Anonymity, Furry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has another suit, one no one knows about. Set between Ironman 1 and 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Cocky Cocker Spaniel

Tony has a hard time separating business and pleasure, much to the despair of some of the board. Though he is convinced a few of them respect him for it. At least half wish they were him, even ignoring the Ironman thing. After all, who doesn’t want to be filthy rich and crazy intelligent with the side bonus of getting laid five times a day?

What it boils down to is Tony doesn’t see why he can’t enjoy himself, as long as he gets his shit done. One way that really works for him is double booking hotels. Stay at the same place as a choral competition and he can give everyone fifty bucks to sing him Highway To Hell acapella. Stay at the same place as a figure skater and get drunk enough that setting up a rink on the roof created from every bottle of water the hotel owns is a good idea. Stay at the same place as a spelling bee and he can sneak in and replace the ‘use it in a sentence’ prompts with more interesting compilations. Sometimes it doesn’t even give Pepper a headache. One of the first people Tony invited to come discuss options for Stark Expo he put up in a Holiday Inn because they were having a Harry Potter con and he happened to know she owned a yellow and black tie. Two days later Sarah showed up with a Deathly Hallows on her hand in henna, and a dozen ideas about how to make the revival a reality.

This time there’s no manipulative altruism, and it’s probably not going to get him in trouble either. After all, if all goes well they won’t even know Tony Stark was there.

Except Pepper. Who doesn’t know that he’s double-booking, just thinks he’s being contrary again. Everything from her face to her crossed arms to her Jimmy Choos seem exasperated. “Why are you staying there? It’s a three star hotel at most.”

“Pepper, Pepper Potts, you must know if you don’t book me a room I’m going to go AWOL.”

“I booked you a room, Tony. I just don’t understand.”

Tony ignores the question. He’s really not that much of a snob that she should be surprised. He doesn’t need everything to be first class. Maybe usually it is, but given the choice between entertaining or sophisticated the first wins outright. She continues to question him, he continues to pretend he’s not listening. She’ll get frustrated enough to move on soon.

Most of the general public think Tony is two different people. There’s Tony, genius playboy philanthropist. And then there’s Ironman, a hero willing to take on anyone.

Some people see three people; Tony the sarcastic yet somehow still nice man, Stark, the billionaire businessman, and Ironman.

And then there’s Pepper. She doesn’t differentiate. No matter who he is, she does her best to not take his crap. Anyone else and she wouldn’t, she’s strong enough to beat ninety nine percent of the world down. It’s not her fault Tony’s in the scant amount who are more bullshit than man.

Truth is, there are four. There’s the part of Tony that wears a soft suit. When Tony is Rusty, there’s no need for metal and engineering and Jarvis sharing his insights. All Rusty wants to do is puppy pile and be petted. Maybe the occasional yiff. It’s nice, being able to get some satisfaction from flicking a fly away rather than hunting down a terrorist cell or developing green power. Especially considering his blood is poisoned and he’s going to die soon. Giving himself time for enjoying simple pleasures is more important than it would have been pre-Ten Rings. 

The hotel Pepper doesn’t approve of is holding a furcon. Tomorrow Tony has to meet a bunch of possible Expo sponsors. Today he’s going to get dressed and attend as much programming as he can.

The suit he dons is warmer than Tony’s other, the portable one in the suitcase tucked under the bed. Ironman isn’t directly on his skin, for the most part. More importantly, it has a cooling system. For all that Rusty is well crafted, it’s not a mechanical marvel. It’s nearly all fabric and thread, with a little fibreglass for the face. The hotel’s shoddy air conditioning isn’t enough to combat the layers of fake fur and padding.

Tony isn’t the only one in full suit all afternoon but he’s in the minority. Most are only wearing ears and tails, some not even that much. He’s okay with that. Seeming a bit over committed is the smallest price he could pay, considering he’s got one of the most recognisable faces in North America. He’s slandered often, but not of it really sticks. He’s pretty sure Stark Is A Furry! would stick. But honestly, he might do head to toe even if he wasn’t famous. It feels more real, Tony’s equivalent to Sarah’s cosplaying McGongall instead of just showing up at a con. 

Of those that are at least partially dressed there are a few that catch Tony’s eye. He wants to get to know them. It’s almost easier to connect with someone like this. Furries wear their fursonas on their sleeves, a far cry from models and their captivating but meaningless style. Never one to wait, Tony approaches a grey dog, short haired but brilliantly coloured, and introduces himself. “I’m Rusty. What’s your name?”

“Puppy America,” the dog answers. A man’s voice, not that it matters much in this environment.

Tony startles. On closer inspection the collar is red white and blue, and the tag looks suspiciously like a shield. It feels spiteful in the right kind of way -rebellious, not vindictive- to flirt with a man who is obviously as attached to Steve Rogers as his father was. 

“Your suit looks great.”

“Yours too,” he returns. 

Tony grins, not that America can tell. His suit better look great considering it was five grand. “Thanks. I think the key of a good cocker spaniel is to get the fur gradation correct.”

“I know what you mean. Irish wolfhounds have about ten shades. Accuracy costs.”

After a few minutes of chatting about the price of truly quality items, America asks what Tony’s been hoping to hear. “Were you planning on going to anything in the next time slot?” 

Tony actually was, but anticipating the next question he says no. The only panel he absolutely _had to_ attend was Light Effects and Electronics in Fursuits, out of pure professional curiosity. It let out twenty minutes ago, meaning the rest of the evening is available for rapid rescheduling.

Sure enough, he gets “do you want to hang out? We could go back to my room. I have all of Monty Python and Supernanny on my laptop.”

“That sounds great!” Tony genuinely means it.

Tomorrow Stark has to make a dozen unofficial pitches for backing. The next day Ironman might have to save another village. The day after that Tony might drop dead of palladium poisoning. But tonight Rusty is going to spoon with America and watch reality tv.


End file.
